Shot to the Heart, and You're too Late
by MizardofSheamus
Summary: Not nearly as depressing as the title sounds. Paul has put together a skilled team of assassins to take out corrupted politicians. Mark has put together a skilled team of assassins to take out Paul. Star-crossed love ensues Several slash pairings
1. Chapter 1

"_Dodger, run! Get out of here now!" my mother screamed, ushering me towards the back door._

"_What about you and dad? I won't leave without you!"_

"_Forget about us! Go!"_

_She pushed me roughly through the door, sending me flying into the backyard with a painful thud._

_I tried to push myself to my feet, but I was thrown back violently as the house exploded._

"_NO!"_

I woke up with a shriek, my gun in my hand before I'd sat all the way up.

My hand pressed to my chest, I took a deep, calming breath.

That was the third night in a row I'd dreamt of the night I lost my parents.

The night Paul found me and took me in.

I had to repress another shriek as John burst into the room, his favourite pair of .38 Smith and Wessons in his hands.

He took a full look around the room before seeing me sitting in bed, completely unharmed.

John sighed and slid the guns into the waistband of his pants before coming over to the bed and sitting next to me.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, gently brushing my hair back.

"Another flashback," I corrected with a soft smile.

John had been like an older brother to me since the moment Paul had brought me back to The Warehouse.

I still wasn't really sure why everyone called it The Warehouse.

It was a lot more like a mansion than a warehouse, but I guess the name was supposed to be ironic or something.

John kissed my forehead, smiling sadly.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked.

I shook my head, hugging him.

"I'll be alright, John. You just go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

John hugged me back tightly, kissing the top of my head.

"Night, Dodge," he said, mussing my hair slightly before getting up and quietly leaving.

I sighed softly as the door closed, slipping my gun back under my pillow.

If these flashbacks didn't stop, someone was going to get hurt before I knew I was awake.

Shaking my head softly, I laid back down and closed my eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

~The Next Morning~

"John Cena," I mumbled softly. "If you don't get your ass out of my room in five seconds, I'm going to shoot it."

He laughed, scooping me out of bed.

"Paul's got an assignment for us," he said as he tossed me over his shoulder.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't fight him off if it was Paul who'd sent him.

A few things about Paul before you meet him.

His name is Paul Wight, which to the inexperienced observer would sound pretty ordinary.

But he's everything but ordinary.

The man is 7 feet tall and weighs nearly five hundred pounds; he's definitely _not_ someone you want to make angry.

He'd started this organization about fifteen years ago, when political corruption in New York hit its peak.

Unfortunately for him, an old highschool enemy of his decided that it wasn't for Paul to choose who was evil enough for assassination.

Mark Calaway, along with his second-in-command Glenn Jacobs, put together his own team of highly trained fighters who were given one purpose: destroy the Cobras.

That would be us, of course.

Over the years there have been casualties on both sides, but the near war has been in a stalemate for months as both leaders fight hard to recruit more people.

"Morning, Paul," John said, gently setting me down beside him.

"Morning, John," he said. "Morning Dodger. I have an assignment for the two of you."

John and I both nodded as we followed Paul to the briefing room, where Stephen was already waiting with a slideshow of pictures for us.

As we sat, Paul nodded to Stephen, who brought up a picture of the governor of New York, Dave Bautista.

"We have reason to believe that Governor Bautista is being influenced by Destruction," Paul said, his voice hardening on the word.

"How do they have access to him?" I asked, knowing that with the 'gang' activity- Bautista and his advisors considered us and Destruction to be gangs- he'd amped up his security.

"They must have someone on the inside," he mused. "That's the only way they could possibly get to him."

John and I both nodded in understanding.

"So what do you need us to do?" John asked, looking up at the screen as Stephen changed the image.

This time it was a picture of Bautista's long-time personal assistant, Stephanie McMahon.

"As I'm sure ye both know," Stephen began, speaking for the first time, "his PA just recently resigned. We want ye to take her position by whatever means necessary."


End file.
